


Confidant

by sasha_b



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Conversations, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Missing Scene, New Friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22393558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: Things change for her in a way she finds she wants.
Relationships: Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 69
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Confidant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fleurlb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurlb/gifts).



> Set the day following the events of episode four, **Sanctuary**.

She wakes a lot earlier than expected.

The sun hasn't risen on Sorgan yet, and the air is thick with humidity, the grass dewy and she knows it will sparkle in the light, when it arrives.

Her bare feet brush the boards of the porch attached to the barn they’ve been staying in; she’s exhausted and carries the blanket that belongs on her cot with her, wrapping it around her shoulders, her under tunic not quite enough without the armor plating that normally covers it.

She plunks down into a chair that leans against the old wooden planking, and blinking slowly, rubs a hand over her face and into her sleep tousled hair as she tries to let her dreams dissipate. The Mando is nowhere to be seen; the kid is sleeping still in his crib, and the ruins of the walker they’d taken down – gods, the plan had actually _worked_ – still smoke in the pre-dawn gloaming. The sun is coming, and she’s thankful, as she doesn’t think she can deal with much more darkness.

She needs some tea or something stronger, really, but doesn’t have the energy to move out of her rickety chair, her muscles tense and sore from the exertion of the night before. She does crack a smile thinking of the beating she’d given those raiders, and she knows she’s still the woman she always was, despite the shit that’s happened –

“You want some tea?”

Mando stands at her feet, and she has the absurd desire to hide them beneath her blanket, but she doesn’t, and nods and sticks out her hand for the mug he passes over.

He’s wearing most of his armor, but no cloak and no gunbelt, due to the early hour, she’s certain. He’s always armed with something, however, so she’s not worried about his sanity.

It’s been exactly 12 hours since they’d taken out the walker and the raiders, and she’s not really worried about them coming back quickly.

All the same, she’ll walk the forest again later, just to make sure. She wasn’t a professional soldier for as long as she had been for no reason. And some days – like today, after the dream that had woken her so early – she’s not sure she’s happy with that. And then she thinks about what had happened to make her into being one, and she’s not sorry.

She _is_ tired, however, and the tea is good.

The Mando takes a seat next to her, and he sighs audibly as he does, his joints creaking louder than the leather accessories he wears. She smirks and takes a sip of her tea, noting he doesn’t have any. The sun is closer to rising, and she thinks she likes this place. Even if its beauty is reminiscent of home.

“Did you eat?”

“Yes,” he answers. Succinct as always. They’re quiet as they watch the sun rise, and Mando crosses his legs as he leans back in his chair. She continues to sip, and the moment likens to something she’s not sure she remembers how to experience. It’s nice. And the vibe is soft, and she’s not comfortable with that, and she shifts and clears her throat.

He turns his helmet toward her, the “T” visor pointed her way, and she pretends she can see his gaze appraising her sudden jumpiness. The light is creeping over the green of the trees and grasses, although she can see the scorch marks and burns from the battle. Those would have to grow back. She’ll stay long enough to help the villagers clean up, for sure.

She wonders if he will.

“You alright?”

She cocks her head as she stares at him. “Yeah,” she answers finally. “…you left the kid alone in the barn?”

He shrugs. “No. You were there.” He crosses his arms over his chest, and leans back again. She wonders if he’s as tired as she is, and takes another sip of her tea. She _really_ wants something stronger. “Glad you trust me.”

“Loyalty is everything,” he remarks. “You’ve proven yourself already. Besides,” his voice deepens, taking on a humor-laced cast, “I could have killed you at least three times by now if I didn’t trust you.”

She snorts tea out her nose, and has to use the blanket to clean up her now damp under tunic. The dew _is_ gleaming in the light, just like she knew it would. “You wish, Mando,” she laughs, “I know your weakness. And I would have taken you out that first time if the kid hadn’t distracted me. Being that cute isn’t fair,” she adds, wiping her mouth once more and turning to look at him.

He shrugs again, but she can see his shoulders shake a bit, and hopes he’s smiling. She wonders what color his eyes are, and then shoves that thought right off. He’s not her type. He _is_ a good man, as far as she can tell, and she wishes they had a chance to know each other better. He’d be a good friend. A bit too mysterious, but there is the armor, which is pretty hot, and he’s a good shot and knows what he’s doing.

“When did you get indoctrinated?” she suddenly asks him.

His head tilts to the right as he swings his foot: once, twice. Then stops. No surprise – she hides a laugh behind her cup. Only a bit human, this one.

“I was about Winta’s age,” he answers after a beat. “You?”

She doesn’t reply right away; that’s damn young to put on armor and a helmet and live like a monk forever. But she’s not that much different, really. “Not seriously until about ten years ago.”

They’re silent. The sun has risen completely, and she has a feeling the kid will wake soon, and clamor for breakfast. She knows Mando will take care of him, but she would too, given the chance. He _is_ damn cute. And there’s something else about him, something she can’t put a finger on, exactly, but it reminds her of stories she’d been told back home, and things that haven’t been clear for a really long time. That frustrates her, and she sits her tea mug down a bit hard, the liquid sloshing over.

“My planet – my home – it was destroyed,” she states, without meaning to, her tone bald and somewhat rough. She feels nothing, though. Nothing on the surface.

 _Pretty dewy grass_ , she thinks.

“I grew up trained to be in the corps at some point. I come from - came from - a peaceful planet, though, and we didn’t have much of an army. It was more local policing.”

He’s silent, but his foot movements have stilled as well, and it's obvious he’s paying attention. Birds have begun to call, and she feels stiff and old, and she turns more toward where he’s sitting. “I’m a good soldier. I’m strong, and I’m fast, and I’m smart and honestly, I love what I do. What I did. Like I said before, once we got to the peacekeeping part of stuff after the war, that wasn’t what I signed up for. Thus, what you see now.”

“Was it the Imps?”

She twists her mouth.

“Yeah.”

He makes a noise that the vocoder in his helmet translates as static, but she knows what he means. A few villagers have emerged from their huts; some of them have waved at the two of them and she nods back with what she hopes is a convincing smile on her face. She’s tired. It’s hard to do.

“They destroyed where I grew up,” he says after a moment of the two of them watching the horizon. “Twice.”

“I know some about Mandalore,” she ventures. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t grow up there originally,” he offers. She can’t believe he’s talking this much, but she likes the feeling of confiding in someone – someone like her – and she doesn’t want it to stop. “My parents. They were killed. The Mandalorians rescued me, and I went into the fighting corps as soon as I was of age. I was cared for and didn’t have to be. It’s who I am, now.”

She purses her lips and nods at him. “I get you.”

He cants his head and lifts a hand in a helpless gesture. “This is the way.”

“I can’t believe you have a slogan, too,” she shoots back, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. He jerks a bit, but then his shoulders relax and she can hear his rough, short laugh, this time.

Being this open –

It’s good. But it’s not something she does a lot, and she feels a knot in her stomach that makes her want to spit out the tea she’s drunk. The sun is up fully, and the heat is rising, and she looks at the wreckage from the fight they’d put up last night, and she stands, stretching, her blanket falling to the ground. “I guess I’d best see what help I can give them,” she points to the people who are starting to gather around the AT-ST and its smoking ruins. “Care to join?”

He bobs his head, once. "Yes."

She sees Omera coming toward the hut, a tray of food balanced in her hand as her little girl capers around her, and Carasynthia Dune, late of Alderaan, turns in her sleep clothing and bare feet to watch her new friend as he rises and joins her. A babble of baby-noise comes from behind the two of them, and she continues to watch as the Mando sweeps the newly woken kid up into his grasp, the baby’s ears perking with happiness at the sight of his guardian.

Her expression is light, and although it’s dog-tired and weak, it’s real. “He’s lucky. I hope you realize that.” She moves to enter the barn, to put on her armor for the day, and to let go of the memories and dreams of _home_ that have plagued her for the past few weeks. He stops her with a gloved hand on her arm.

“I’m not sure about that.”

She pinches her lips into a thin line and pats his pauldron-covered shoulder. “I don’t know, Mando. You should reexamine your priorities.” She touches the kid’s ear, brushing its downy softness, and he makes a burbling sound at her that might be one of happiness – or hunger. She’s not sure with kids. “Feed him,” she points at the kid’s belly, which is making audible noises. “I’ll see you down there.”

She ducks inside the barn just as Omera approaches with Winta and their food, and she pretends not to listen to the conversation between the Mandalorian and the widow (he likes the pretty woman, obviously), and she smiles again, even if it’s rusty, as she dresses for the day of cleanup to come.

~

**Author's Note:**

> I hate summaries. LOL sorry for the crappy one.
> 
> Happy Chocolate Box! I so love this fandom and hope you enjoy this. I really liked your prompts a lot. 
> 
> I know that Mando/Din, Cara, and Greef have a conversation kind of like this in episode 8, but it doesn't sound to me like he wouldn't have told Cara this before. I thought maybe he'd just expound on it. The beginnings of a beautiful friendship. :) Makes more sense that she'd protect him with her own body during the firefight in said episode.
> 
> Thank you to anyone who reads/comments/kudos/takes the time to read this! This is the way. :)


End file.
